by Jimmy McAfee | Sep 17, 2018 | Uncategorized
If you read my last post, “Letting Go“, you know it’s been a couple of weeks since the kids moved out, and I started to mourn the passing of my time as a full-time parent. If you haven’t read that, check it out!
I still miss them, but I’m adjusting. I’m trying to figure out our new rules of engagement.
Should I text/call or wait for them? Is it OK to clean out and rearrange their old bedrooms to accommodate guests, or is there some unspoken waiting period? When should I offer advice, and when should I wait for them to ask? It’s all different.
At the same time, it is exciting. I feel a freedom I haven’t had in a long time. Without the kids depending on me, I am free to choose who I am and what I do. I am standing on an open road.
I’ve asked God where he wants me to go. Instead of directing me somewhere, he has given me peace.
I feel him saying “I love you, son. Which way do you want us to go?”
How do I answer that question? Which way do I want us to go? Before responding, I’m considering carefully.
The last time I felt the open road beneath me was in my early twenties. Like then, now I can pick a new career, live where I want, invest in the friends I choose, and fill my days with activities I select. It is exciting, but there is also a lot of anticipation in making decisions that may affect me for years to come.
There are mistakes I don’t want to repeat, things that have kept me from getting the most out of life. I need to break some bad habits.
The first habit has caused me to choose the wrong paths in the past. I have struggled my entire life with a chronic need to receive praise to make me feel loved. For example, while you are reading this post, I will be battling a constant urge to check the number of views it has received. Big numbers mean people like me, right?
This search for validation leads me to spend my time working on activities that earn praise instead of finding joy.
I am loved. I need to quit chasing after something I already have.
My second bad habit prevents me from relaxing. It is a need to feel like I am in control. There are times I have needed to retreat to a personal sanctuary to survive chaos and uncertainty. Over time, I have tried to expand my sanctuary instead of finding peace in my situation. It has led to an obsessive focus on insignificant details instead of enjoying the people in my life.
Every message I send does not require an immediate reply. Coffee tastes the same from a different mug. I can sit on the left side of the couch. Telephone batteries operate for a long time below 50% charge. The legs of the dining room chairs do not have to form a perfect line. Pepperoni pizza is not the only choice.
Life is full of unexpected pleasures. I’ve missed too many while I insisted on doing things my way.
It is time for me to imagine what I want my future to look like. I want to dream big, but I’m afraid of being disappointed because my goals aren’t achievable. There was a time however when any dream seemed within reach.
One Christmas when I was a child, I had a huge, boxed gift that I believed held a five-foot-tall rocket. I could close my eyes and visualize huge plumes of fire as it lifted from the ground. I wondered how I would find it when it returned from outer space (it turned out to be an air hockey table though, still a cool gift).
In high school, I had a poster of a huge mansion with five high-end sportscars inside. At the bottom, it said “JUSTIFICATION FOR HIGHER EDUCATION.” It seemed reasonable for an aspiring engineer.
When my kids were young, I built them rooms full of fantasy – bookcases that looked like castles with functioning drawbridges and walls covered with comic book covers.
Somewhere in the dad years, my dreams took a backseat to practicality. Being a practical father allowed my kids to grow up without worrying if they would have food, clothes and a place to sleep every night. I have no regrets, but I am now free to chase my dreams.
Lord, awaken the dreamer inside me.
I also need to be patient and enjoy the process of achieving my dreams. Years ago when my daughter said the blessing over dinner, she would pray “God, please help us get through this week so we can make it to the weekend.” Unintentionally, I had taught her to focus so much on results that she wasn’t content in her work.
Goals and dreams are important, but the reward is found in pursuing them, not from the trophies collected for their completion. I worked so hard to achieve my dreams that I had overlooked the very reason they exist. I don’t want a list of accomplishments. I want days that are full of love, life, and laughter.
God grant me patience.
Last, I want to surround myself with people I care about. I have a lot of great friends. I’ve also got a great family – children, a brother, a sister, parents, and others by blood or marriage. I want time with each of them. Together, we are a community. My community.
Of all the people I love and want to spend time with, I want Kim to be at my side. I want to live out a love story with her that generations will remember. Twenty-six years have convinced me I was blessed to marry the perfect person for me. May I take every opportunity to be thankful for her and to indulge in the time we have together.
But I never answered God’s question. Which way do I want us to go?
The harder I try to pick the perfect destination, the more I realize that enjoying the trip is more important. I am thrilled to spend my day walking with Him. But I owe him an answer to his question, so I reply.
“That path on the right looks like an adventure. Can we go that way?”
by Jimmy McAfee | Aug 30, 2018 | Uncategorized
I’ve had a long month. It started when I moved my daughter into her studio apartment, where she starts her first grown-up job soon. It finished with me driving several hours across the state to drop off my son at college. The return trip home seemed much quieter and much longer.
Kim and I are officially empty-nesters, and our kids are “on their own”.
One of these now adults is a loving, nurturing soul who is attentive to the smallest details of the people in her life. She hops from one interest to the next, soaking up new experiences. She celebrates the quirks that make each person unique.
The other is easy-going. He works hard, but he and life have achieved harmony in a happy kind of dance. He can find and reflect humor in any situation. He is at his best in small crowds, with friends who laugh together and stand up for each other.
I am proud of both of them, and there is no reason for me to worry. They have much to learn but are ready to face what lies ahead. God smiles at them, and they smile back. They’ll be fine.
While their worlds are expanding, mine has suddenly contracted. I have no “little buddy” to ride with me to the grocery. Even if I went alone, who am I cooking breakfast for anyway? I catch myself starting tasks that are no longer necessary.
There is nobody left to teach how to change a flat tire, light a grill without burning your eyebrows, or iron a shirt like a pro. Now I await phone calls asking for advice.
I’ve spent most of my adult life building a home for my family. The smallest details have been carefully organized to prepare the kids to fly out of the nest one day. Now that the day has come, I wonder how it got here so quickly.
I am suddenly left to walk through a house that seems much larger and lonelier than before. Many rooms now sit unused except by the memories that live in them.
In one bedroom, a memory sits behind a tightly closed door and sings softly while strumming a guitar. The music provides relief from the angst of teen years. I like to close my eyes and listen silently from the hallway.
In the next bedroom, another memory is playing one vinyl LP record after another in a world that went digital decades ago. Albums are strewn across the bed while their collector admires each and carefully reorganizes them. I see so much of her mother’s beauty in her.
The family room holds the echoes of a father and son intently watching superhero cartoons that they’ve seen many times before. They occasionally interrupt the show to discuss which superpower they would choose, and who is the greatest hero. Could that little boy imagine the man he would become?
The small table in the kitchen holds the memory of a mother and daughter surrounded by scattered crayons while they carefully color pictures of animals and flowers. I tell them that their pictures are beautiful, but the memories don’t seem to notice.
The dining table hosts a noisy feast. “Everybody talking and nobody listening” is the family motto. Comfort foods fill every empty space but are seldom chewed thoroughly in the wild race for seconds. I think we took a picture that day. I wonder where it is?
Some rooms have silent occupants. I sigh at the piles of dirty dishes that reappear on the kitchen counter overnight. I shake the empty milk carton that found its way back into the refrigerator door. I remember wondering how they would ever get along without me.
More memories are living in the garage and backyard, but I’ve seen enough. There’s no hurry to visit the others now. I have lots of time, and they’ll still be there.
My celebration of a new life with a wife I love will need to wait for a short while. Oh, I’m excited about it. We have plans for grand adventures. But not just yet.
For the moment, I will quietly mourn the passing of my days as a full-time father and wait for the separation pains to subside. I need to let go of my previous identity and discover who I am now.
I know that all of us will be together again. More memories will move in one holiday weekend soon. We love each other, and that hasn’t changed. But the seismic shift is impossible to overlook.
Today, I will sit quietly with the memories who share my home. I need their company and comfort.
Maybe I’ll watch that cartoon with those two guys. It’s one of my favorites.
by Jimmy McAfee | Aug 16, 2018 | Uncategorized
Do you ever feel like you are stuck in the same bad dream?
It’s a dream where the family you grew up with treats you like an outcast. People you thought were your friends abandon you because your life is a mess. Your boss finds fault in everything you do. The constant rejection is suffocating.
When you enter a room, the faces looking at you morph into the faces of people who have condemned you. The impatient checkout clerk has the same disappointed expression your parent had. The new neighbors next door roll their eyes when you talk, and you know they have already given up on you, just like your friends did. Your kids criticize everything you do for them, and nothing is good enough, just like your boss.
On some level, you agree with all of them. You have made mistakes. Too often, your best wasn’t good enough. Your failures are now on display in your kids’ lives. The shame is overwhelming.
You’ve tried to find friends or groups to help, but they haven’t. You’ve read the Bible until you can recite the words, but healing hasn’t come. You’ve prayed for God to take away the pain, but it continues.
As crowds close in around you, pointing out your inadequacies, you feel less than an adult. The helpless child inside begins to cry.
Tears cloud your vision, and you begin to run, pushing past people, going in any direction that will provide an escape. When it seems impossible to break free, you see Jesus seated in front of you. He looks at you and says “Come, little one. Have a seat”.
As you walk toward him, you can hear the crowd saying “Jesus, there is much to be done, don’t waste your time here.”
He dismisses them with a gesture and invites you again to sit with him. When you do, he gently wipes the tears from your face and brushes back your hair.
“It’s not fair!” you shout.
“I know”.
He holds you patiently as you sob, gently comforting you. Unexpectedly, he begins to talk about a flower growing nearby. He reminds you that it is your favorite color.
For the first time, you look up to see what he is pointing to. Without trying, you smile and make a crack in the sadness. He’s right of course. It is your favorite.
Time slips by as you sit with him. He doesn’t tell parables or teach you lessons. There are no stories to reflect on later, examining their meaning. Instead, he patiently enjoys your time together, drawing joy from each smile you share, delighting in the little things you say and do.
Before long, tears of laughter replace the sorrowful ones he wiped away earlier. You tell him which parts of his creation you find to be the most beautiful, and he points out that same beauty inside you.
Suddenly remembering the surrounding crowds, you quietly say “Can you make them be nice to me?”
“Know that I love you, little one.”
It is not enough to know every verse in the Bible. Even believing that he died for you will not bring you peace. It is his love that will set you free. Until you embrace it, you live in a prison with the door left open.
Spend all the time you need in his arms. Step away a few paces to show him the amazing tricks you have learned. Feel free to step away further. It’s OK. He’s still there.
The recurring nightmare will end. The voices from your past will fade into the mist. Your accusers will be silenced as you focus on how much he loves you.
The power to change the world is inside you. It doesn’t come from your intellect, strength or any other gift you were given. Certainly, those things are of great value. Each was carefully designed and crafted only for you as he created your soul. Those things are part of who you are, but his love is the engine that makes everything run.
Step fearlessly into each moment when you hear his call. Extravagantly share his love with others. Your destiny has always been in front of you. A dying world needs you.
At times, there will still be pain. Voices will ring out that you are not enough. You will occasionally look to Jesus in doubt, asking if everything will be OK. You will always hear his words.
“Know that I love you, little one.”
by Jimmy McAfee | Jul 25, 2018 | Uncategorized
If you’ve met Jesus, I hope you’ll share your story. I’d love to hear it. If you haven’t met him yet, I hope you will seek him. He promises you will find him.
This is my story.
I grew up in the suburbs of Nashville in a traditional family. I was enrolled in a small, Christian school from the 1st – 11th grades and attended the local Baptist church three times most weeks.
I had three Bibles when I entered the 1st grade. Soon, I was able to list all the books of the Old and New Testaments, had learned all of the major stories and characters and could recite verses from memory by the handful. I have believed in God and the Bible for as long as I can remember and never had cause to doubt what I’d been taught about them.
It was an easy decision for me to commit my life to Christ when I was thirteen and to stand in front of the church to be baptized. After all, everyone I knew did the same thing.
My upbringing gave me every advantage for a great relationship with Jesus. But for whatever the reason, it stalled at the maturity of a thirteen-year-old.
College came and I was introduced to people who hadn’t grown up in my bubble. A few had different religions, but most people just didn’t care. I never abandoned my faith but didn’t rock the boat. I tried to lead a good life and left it at that. After all, I had already done what I understood was necessary to get into heaven. That’s the point, right?
As soon as we graduated, Kim and I got married. We got good jobs. We worked hard and built solid lives. We had two children and our days filled up quickly. We received God’s blessings and offered the thanks a polite kid would give his father for an allowance.
My comfortable world would be shaken in an unexpected way.
Holding my small children in my arms, I would daydream about the lives ahead of them. I tried to envision the very best lives possible so that I could invest in making those dreams into their realities. I carefully considered each blessing to ask on their behalf.
Money? Doesn’t seem to bring happiness.
Beauty, strength? Too fleeting.
Big family? Either way.
Powerful or famous? Too much temptation and corruption.
If not these, what did I want for them?
I wanted them to be loved by many and to give love freely in return. I wanted them to receive every good thing that God had for them, not just in heaven but for all of their days. I wanted them to have a life of impact. Last, I wanted them to love God passionately and worship the Savior who died for them.
I imagined these lives stretching ahead of them and smiled with satisfaction. That is what I would work to provide them.
My dreams were crushed with a single thought. “How could I give them something I didn’t have?”
Outside of family, I didn’t love well. I only spoke to God occasionally, and that was usually just to ask for something. I actually avoided worship, associating it with liturgical verses from a Baptist hymnal that never seemed to end.
I had grown and matured, but my spiritual development was stuck in junior high school.
I began to search for Jesus because I was scared that my children would never recognize him. I tried to find him so that I could show them the way.
Jesus entered my life through a door I had opened for someone else.
I prayed for understanding. I prayed for my heart to soften. I made lists of things I was thankful for. I read the Bible from cover to cover a couple of times.
What I found wasn’t what I expected. I found real people with real struggles, not the caricatures and platitudes I remembered.
The themes didn’t match what I expected either. Without realizing it, I had absorbed a perspective of a disconnected god who was equally content with destruction or blessing. The isolated verses I heard thrown around didn’t match the tone of the Bible as a whole.
I found grace over judgment, passion over protocol, inclusion over isolation, and life in abundance.
I abandoned the two-dimensional, man-in-the-sky God of my childhood. I let go of what I thought I knew and embraced something real.
Jesus is a real person who always wanted a real relationship with me. He speaks to me in whispers, comforts me in pain and walks with me at all times. He fills my heart with truths that bring me ever closer to him.
I am the son of the High King and enjoy the full favor of that position. My life has been redeemed and all my sins are forgotten, past and future. The same power that conquered the grave lives in me. I am loved more than I can imagine.
The love I receive flows out of me and into others. I worship in a loud voice with tears of joy streaming down my face. My life is his and I will go bravely wherever he calls me. I want everyone to meet the real Jesus.
I don’t have a story where everything changed in an instant. Candidly, I’m jealous sometimes of people who have those really cool testimonies.
My story is a love that grows stronger every day.
I have found the same life I wished for my children.
Thank you, Jesus.
IF you have already found Jesus, I hope you will share your story, too. You will find freedom and be a voice of truth.
If you have questions and want to talk more, I’d love to hear from you.
by Jimmy McAfee | Jul 19, 2018 | Uncategorized
A shiver ran through Patrick and he pulled his blanket tighter. The hard earth and cold night air reminded him that he was no longer as young as the men who slept around him.
The campfire had burned to embers but there was no reason to rebuild it. They would be leaving soon.
The pale moonlight provided enough light to see down the hillside and into the valley in front of them. Any detail was still shrouded in darkness. He tried not to imagine the fire’s destruction. In his mind’s eye, he could still picture everything as he had always known it.
He knew better. There was no way to tell if the fire had been caused by an enemy, accident or act of nature. Whatever the cause, from his home many miles away, the glow of the flames had foretold what he would find in the valley.
He had quickly collected help and supplies and immediately set out on the trip. Now sitting silently in the restless time before daybreak, he held onto hope that his neighbors had escaped the blazes.
The younger men with him slept soundly. He knew they were dreaming of the job in front of them, how they would use their strength to bring comfort and protection, and of the stories they would share when it was over.
Patrick had no such thoughts. Hardships, years, and the pains of great loss all ran together. He couldn’t see what lay ahead, but he knew the danger was real.
Wrapped tightly against the cold, his thoughts carried him back to better times he had enjoyed in this valley, when he had eaten dinner with the sounds of music and laughter echoing off the hill he now sat on.
He remembered the children smiling as they played, the elders telling stories, the women cleaning and polishing the keepsakes they reserved for guests, and the men watching proudly over their families as they relaxed at the end of a hard day. In his mind’s eye, he shifted his gaze from person to person, saying their names like some sort of hopeful roll call.
Fear gripped his heart. Threats that would take life indiscriminately haunted his thoughts. In the midst of a hard life, the pain and loss of young ones tormented him most.
Children look up into your eyes, trusting you to care for them. They place a simple faith in you to protect them. Their innocence is a blossom of hope in an unworthy world. He would gladly forfeit himself for them. He silently prayed “Please, Father. Spare them.”
In the midst of circumstances he could not understand, Patrick held onto his faith. Whatever awaited him, he placed himself in the hands of a Father who could save through the fire, heal with a touch or restore what had been broken. Even if He didn’t, Patrick would glorify him.
During dark times, Patrick knew that he had to make a choice. He could submit to his fears and rely on his own strength for protection. He could shut out the pain and numb himself from the sadness around him.
Instead, he chose to ignore likelihood and probabilities. He released his desire for control. He held tightly onto hope that he would find life in the valley, hope that better times lay ahead.
He awoke from his thoughts at the sound of the others stirring from their sleep. The sun was beginning to rise and the first brushstrokes of color began to fill the sky.
Patrick wondered what the day would hold. His looked at the young men with him and then into the valley where they would soon go. What will he find there? Are his neighbors safe? Is the danger behind them? Nothing was certain.
He stood up slowly, stretching muscles and joints that loudly complained about his unwelcome bed. Looking into the coming sunlight, he collected his thoughts.
To bring life into the valley, he must force out the darkness inside him. He released thoughts of his own safety. He released concern about whether he was adequate to the challenges ahead. He let go of his anger at an unfair world.
With these cleared from his mind, he held tightly to what was left. These three remained: faith, hope, and love. And the greatest of these is love.
The first rays of light filled the valley.
by Jimmy McAfee | Jul 11, 2018 | Uncategorized
Sometimes the best advice in life seems upside down at first. Relationships are frequently like that. But if you want different results, you gotta change perspective.
I always want more friends. You probably do too. I’m trying to get better at turning people I meet into friends. The latest thing I’ve learned is called “The Ben Franklin Effect”.
Hopefully, it can help all of us to build friendships. Let me explain.
I joined a local serving team in hopes of making friends. The people on this team try to help neighbors who need it most. They emphasize relationships by focusing first on the person and second on the job to be done. It seemed like a great approach.
It’s been a lot harder than I thought.
Here’s our friendship formula:
- Step 1: Find something you are good at and enjoy doing.
- Step 2: Find a neighbor with a need that matches what you have to give.
- Step 3: Get to know the neighbor and be generous in exceeding their need.
- Step 4: Watch amazing friendships grow.
Solid plan, right? Unfortunately, it doesn’t routinely work. Here is a typical story.
We had a great workday at Anna’s home. The atmosphere was upbeat. We had great music, laughed together, worked hard, and did a great job. Anna was overwhelmed and tearfully grateful. Joy filled her home for the first time in too long, and her pending tragedy was avoided. We talked regularly for the next few weeks.
Then it started to cool off.
She declined to join us for future events. Then she was busy when we invited her to join us for lunch or a cup of coffee. She was very thankful for the help she had received and happy to hear from us, but no friendship was forming.
On the other hand, John was relatively new to our group. I knew him well enough to have a conversation, but not much more. He came to the workday, worked incredibly hard, and did an amazing job. That day catalyzed the growth of our enduring friendship.
Why did it work with one person, but not the other?
There is a name for this phenomenon. It is called The Ben Franklin Effect (yes, the hundred dollar bill, kite-flying guy). He said:
“He that has once done you a Kindness will be more ready to do you another, than he whom you yourself have obliged.”
It’s kind of King James-ish, so you may need read it a couple times.
He basically says that you are more likely to make a friend with someone who has done a favor for you than someone who received a favor from you.
In my example, Anna was a neighbor in need, and all the gifts flowed her way. She never wanted to be in a situation where she needed other people’s help to survive. She avoided situations that confronted her with feelings of perceived inadequacy.
On the other hand, John gave his best effort and was celebrated for it. He was drawn to receive more attention like that.
What is the point?
To make friends, draw people in by acknowledging how they have blessed you. Bond with them by praising their positive impacts on your life.
We all want to be special and to be loved. We are drawn to people who see something remarkable inside us that they are excited to share.
I’m going to have to practice to get this right. It’s easier for me to focus on what I am good at and what I can do for someone. There is nothing wrong with that, but my focus tends to remain on me, and that is less powerful.
I am a more desirable friend when I draw attention to others’ strengths, not their struggles.
It can also help me to be a better servant. If I want to build connections while making home repairs, I need to provide chances for my future friend to extend kindness. Increasing focus on their value and decreasing focus on their need are like friendship fertilizer.
It will require being more intentional with my observations to appreciate each person’s unique gifts. However, I receive something from everyone who gives me their time and attention.
Maybe they have a story that I need to hear. Maybe they are leaving a legacy in my city that will inspire generations. Maybe they light the room with a simple smile.
In his story, Ben Franklin asked someone if he could borrow a book. He built a long-term relationship on a minor gesture. It doesn’t have to be big, just intentional.
If I can learn to pay more attention to people and value the gifts God gave them, maybe they will want to spend more time together.
It’s just crazy enough to work.
One day I may approach you and offer a clumsy expression of my gratitude. Please take it easy on me. It still looks funny when I’m upside down. But I’m learning.
